Preordained #ProjectNigeria

15- Distractions

Song- Little Bit More by Jidenna

Nwanyieze's POV

After a warm bath, I dress in one of my flowing bubas and sit in the sitting room to read the previous day's copy of The Guardian newspaper, wanting to be kept abreast of the happenings in Nigeria.

The president is still fighting corruption, the northern part of the country is still being plagued by Boko Haram terrorists, the value of the Naira has come crashing, food prices have doubled and even tripled, unemployment is still rising (where the hell are all the jobs?), pensioners are dropping dead in the streets during protests demanding their pension which has been held back for months and even years...

What is happening in this country? I wonder, puzzled at how things have escalated to this level.

Mama Uju has whisked Adanna away for their usual week end treats, and I declined to follow, partly because I want to rest at home and because I want just the two of them to be together. This time, they have gone to the Ikeja City Mall, where the little princess will spend most of the day in Play Zone, and by the time they're home in the evening, Adanna will be fast asleep, having exhausted all her energy.

What kind of Nigeria will be here when she grows up? I ask myself as my eyes move to a framed photograph of her. In the picture, she is fast asleep. Mama Uju had been watching her daughter sleep (like she does so many times) and decided to take a picture of her with her phone. It's one of her hobbies, snapping away at everything Adanna did, but she said that that particular picture struck her heart because her daughter looked so peaceful and she wished she could have a life as peaceful and as comfortable as her sleep.

I remember how wistful she had been that day, coming home with the framed picture, unwrapping it carefully from the old newspaper and then hanging it on the wall above the television set. Truly, it's a beautiful photograph. In it, Adanna's eyes are closed, her rosebud lips relaxed and chubby cheeks glowing. Nothing holds her hair back; it's scattered around her head in dark, curly wisps.

Does her father ever think of her? Where ever he is, with his family, does he ever wonder if his illegitimate daughter is doing fine? When Mama Uju had broken the news to him, he'd harshly told her to abort the baby and had then revealed that he was married. Mama Uju hadn't known; Nick Sanderson had hidden his wedding band each time they met.

Do your own parents- both real and fake- ever think of you? a small voice in my head asks with a hint of mockery.

This voice in my head is my worst enemy, and it's even more complicated because it belongs to me.

How do you think Mummy and Daddy are doing?

The fact that I still think of my adoptive parents as Mummy and Daddy is something I can never get over. One moment, I'm hating them with every part of me and the next, I'm missing them, missing the people they used to be and the days I used to be their princess right before Daddy began his abuse on me. Those wonderful days I used to sit on his shoulders, arms on the top of his head while he moved around the house with Mummy following behind, ready to catch me in case I fell off.

Why did your real mother dump you, anyway?

I had heard of the story from Mama Uju, after I had been thrown out and the truth about me had come out and hit me like a wrecking ball. Mama Uju had said that Mummy had told her the story after my adoption. I had been discovered in the trash, wrapped in dirty clothes and left to die. My saviour had been a little boy, an orphan who had been scavenging for food. When I asked about the boy, Mama Uju had replied that he had been adopted as well and had moved to another city.